


North Star

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Protective Uchiha Madara, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: Discovering who you are in a world who believes you disgusting is difficult, but sometimes you can do so with the right person.
Relationships: Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> (1): Un Bel(masculine) or Beau(unisex)(French): This is a title of my own creation, you will see it several times in this story. It is basically the same concept of Sir or Madam except in reference to a barer (again these are sexist times they had their own respectable title) When speaking to a barer and saying Sir the person would instead say Un Bel meaning: A beautiful. When speaking singularly (e.x: A Beau such as him.) means the same thing as (e.x: a Lady such as her.) They do not have separate pronouns.

Glittering in the early morning the shine and majesty of the North Star could be well defined. It was such a time of despair and panic that one individual of the large city was forced to conclude it shone on him for the god’s eyes to watch him, wickedly. Though there was hardly a shred of evidence to support such a claim, twas one idea born of a panic stricken mind did it arise, and therefore it was hardly an unusual claim. The Pole Star was eerily bright this dawn, and the poor man had nothing else to blame for his anguish save for the House Mother, and even then such an accusation was weak. The sigh he let loose was caught by the fragile silvery light of the star and the snow, making a glow that in olden times would have declared him something of a spirit.

Careful, he lugged his scattered belongings amongst the wet snow. His threadbare, near fingerless, gloves were of no help; as the tips of his hands were now turning an ailed blue. His rather dainty limbs could hardly move, and every time he attempted to grasp a piece of fabric it would send tinges of pain up his hands, as if being stabbed by sewing needles. This, he reflected, was what his life would become from this moment on, one of struggle and shaking blue hands.

It was a grievance existence that only remained among those born into a poor life. With no title, and the certainty of none in his future -he assumed.- Naruto could only imagine that this would be his future, though, he did occasionally look unto the beauty of the North star and wish for something better, regardless of how misfortuned that remained.

Once he had somehow managed to clasp his luggage closed he set off towards the main road, his footwear already soaked through at the spats. His flared hubble skirt was worn, and hardly fit for use, he felt as if he was already at the street corner like a common _punk_. At the very least his dignity was intact -though, how long it would remain as such was yet to be seen.

The coat he wore was a disgrace already with a fabric of holes and no lining. It was not as if his shirtwaist dress of lace and cotton was warm. His hair was in a psyche knot and done for some form of dignity and it was of even less aid, leaving his delicate ears exposed to the biting winds of Russia which he despised even further then the snow beneath his feet.

However, he knew well enough that the cold of his motherland would not be too large of a concern soon. Work was unavailable to one such as himself in common little towns, so he was forced to travel slightly further, hence his baggage and hastened departure to the depot.

It was only mid September, a month he hated with a vigor, with chilled winds and the snow that was brought with winter’s chilled embrace. Nevertheless, now he was forced to be out in such a cold to travel into St. Petersburg for work, the city would have less winds then the countryside for certain. At the very least he knew he might find a simplistic job or at least something that allowed a _barer_ such as himself to work; Not a simple task, he fathomed.

Regardless, there would be something that would not damage his dignity as an eligible badain (bachelor/maiden). Despite his lack of fortune he did desire an eventual marriage with a warm living as a normal person would. As it were, he may have been brought up in an orphanage but that did not make him any less prone to the warmth a touch of love could provide, if anything it made the desire burn more prominent to his sensitive -ever-cold- skin.

On days such as this, he would normally be within the house, reading near the fire. His torn book would feel strange in his hands and the frayed edging would rub reassuringly on the calluses that rested on the tips of his fingers. The book was an old one and precious to him as he believed it to have been his Father’s; a man whom he had never known. The rather jumbled speak of the victorian writing always served to confuse him in a way, yet it always reminded him of something hidden he had never managed to find. Occasionally, the younger children would gather at his skirts and he would spend the afternoon reading the story to them. It was such a rarity in the orphanage that a book graced their hands, and even more unusual was when someone could read it, and although by this point they had all near memorized the story back-to-front the children never missed an opportunity to have him read the lyrical words.

Of course, it was strange that he -an unknown orphan (1) _beau_ \- was able to read, as people such as him; they were simply not taught to. No one spoke of it instead merely enjoyed the peace while they could. On days like this, the House mother would leave to go and speak with her lady friends, and though it was _supposed_ to be a secret; the woman actually left to find a suitor who could stand her dower personality. None of the children believed that she could, whispering among themselves about a human falling for a demon.

Naruto always giggled when he thought of how their little faces contorted at the very thought, button noses wrinkled and eyes pinched painfully. Now, the memory brought melancholy, for he knew he would not see those pesky children for a long time yet, years perhaps. He sighed at the thought, glad that no one could see him on such a lonely road.

Looking up, he gazed a little reverently upon the sight of the Pole Star, only just shining through clouds; bright as it could, while the sun breached over the horizon. Even when it had seemed ill-intentful earlier. He now saw the cold beauty it represented, with it, he cast a small wishful hope up for a chance of good fortune. Thinking unto himself: it surely wouldn’t condemn him more than it already had.

Gathering himself, he tucked his coat tighter around his slight frame, and walked at a quicker pace, the snow sticking fast to his boots and skirt. Shaking himself from the miniscule fantasies whispering inside his head.

Then, he saw it, the gleaming lights of the proud city, colouring the snow with a majestic yellow shine, sparkling against the watered crystals of the untouched ice, where on the trees he could see icicles glinting with an orange light. The sun, rising now over the city was even more a sight to behold, as it brought a pinkened skyline with orange and the light blue of waking hours. Even more so was the brightened sky shining down on what was the epicenter of a fine painting, the Winter Palace; showcasing the whole scene more than words could describe, that of tranquility, and opportunity. The snow crunched underfoot, as he stood upon the peak of the vast hill overlooking the scene, and he breathed in the freezing and biting wind into his lungs. The high spires of the church seemed to glint each onto their own a colour separate from what they were, and the gold was glinting, even amongst the smog of the city.

So did this scene arouse a kind of new enthusiasm within him, and he found himself running down the hill with an eagerness he himself had not felt in years, with a posture and disposition most unbefitting of a _Beau_. However this, was not of any concern unto him for no one would look upon him at such an hour and think him odd, most people were unlikely to be up, not to mention it was a far too unforgiving a winter for such nonsensical thoughts.

It was with a sudden jolt of awareness did he find himself standing just behind the large iron gates of Winter Palace. The great iron, now rusted, were turnt crooked and hung loosely upon their fastenings to the stone pillars. The Palace beyond was boarded and looked to be in the same state as that of the gates. It was truly a saddening sight, to see something once so marvelous and regal now reduced to rust.

While he was taken to staring. Far behind him the people poor such as himself were beginning their days, shuffling along with slumped shoulders and lazy steps, busy and edging themselves along to their jobs.

He gazed at the large palace once more, wondering if he dared risk such a ventre. When one grew up in an orphanage, rumor and speculation was bound to reach your ear, the younger ones were always spouting nonsense of haunted halls and whispers in the dark that lurked within the ruins of the abandoned Palace, it was a source of great chatter at bedtime most nights, and though he tried not to let such foder affect his judgement he couldn’t help but wonder himself whether or not they held any truth. As a rule he had made unto himself, he had vowed at a young age to never deal with the likes of ghosts or hauntings for it truly frightened him. Now however, there was a curiosity peaking in his mind. Ghosts aside, he had a deep curiosity that pondered on the mysteries and secrets hidden in such a place, how the nobles of the time had lived, what had their rooms looked like? How spectacular was the ballroom truly? Was it as the children said?

Biting his lip, he gazed at a street corner for but a moment; this was unwise, it wasn’t exactly legal to venture into the palace, but at this time in the early hour no one was milling about on this particular street, and he could sneak in without so much as a sound if he was careful. It was not as if he could be late for work when he himself did not know what he would do to earn any sort of money, considering he wasn’t allowed to work a dignified job.

Decision made, he shuffled forward slightly until he was standing at the threshold of the large gates. They were slightly parted, one almost completely bent over itself and misshapen. There was a small gap in which he would be able to sneak through if he was careful.

Taking a deep breath, he held it and moved betwixt the heavy iron and once on the other side let out a sigh of relief. A new feeling of excitement and adventure overtook him then. Moving quickly as to not be seen, he scampered over to a large boarded window and bent underneath the beams. There was a benefit to being of a slighter frame after all.

Upon entering there was not much to see, it was dreary, and held a most terrible draft, there were copious amounts of dust covering every surface. Yet as he gazed a slight bit longer, and his Atlantic blue eyes adapted to the gloom it became a most magnificent sight to behold. It took him a moment to understand the scale, nevertheless as his eyes were telling him. He was within the ballroom, for there was nowhere else it could be. On the very far end opposite to him was a large table set with silverware and fine china, the corpses of once beautiful flowers sitting in antique vases.

Large mirrors covered in grime sat separate each other in all four corners of the room. The very walls were decorated with finely carved gold which he could only imagine shone once in the light of the candelabra which itself now lay broken in the middle of the grand floor. There were two grand staircases with red and gold trimmed carpet which arose to the second floor, and on one end there were three thrones, and from what he could see a large portrait behind those thrones. One throne was certainly for the Emperor, another for the Empress, and as far as he knew, one for either the Grand Prince(ess) or the Grand-Emperor or Empress, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he had spoken to or of the Uzumaki House or the royals of Russia. As a rule of tongue no one spoke of them in public nor their downfall.

For one reason he could not hope to explain, the whole room made him feel as if he were but a giddy child exploring in a sort of wonder land only spoken of in books of fanatical whimsy. He laughed slightly at the uplifting feeling, which was strange, because one would fathom that such a place heavy with the burden of death and tragedy would do nothing but provide a feeling of despair or perhaps melancholy for those who had lived in the time of royalty. However, he felt none of that, and in such a grand space he twirled around in light-hearted fascination of his surroundings. Imagining himself, for a moment, a Princess dressed in fine regality.

Despite the draft he took off his coat, the heavy and worn fabric fell to the floor, looking as if it fit in with the cobwebs and the dust of the room. And, unto himself, he spun some more, his skirt flaring around him as his arms outstretched as if attempting to touch both sides of the room simultaneously.

Then there resting upon the dusty table top he saw something that glinted, unlike the silverware.

Curious, he picked it up, inspecting it, something vague filtering across his mind, like an old friend coming home. It was familiar, though he could say for certainty he had never seen it before. It was nothing more than a headpiece: A circlet, of different sized ocean pearls, all cut to display the largest pearl at the front which looked to be of a different colour than the others of ivory white. It was beautiful, and carefully, he slipped it over his head, and wore it as a necklace overtop the thin lace collar of his shirtdress.

Then it seemed as if the jewelry were taunting him, as it felt eerily familiar now that he wore it. For a moment he could see a bright yellow, and fine fabrics, a deep red amongst many ballgowns: Only for a moment he felt as if he was a part of a grand ball, there was a smell permeating from the table of cooked boar and that of sweet apple, corn, and beef, peas, and fish, then there was a small whiff of roses hiding behind the delicate aroma of the food. For a moment he could see the gold glittering on the walls, and the plush red cushions surrounding the exterior of the main area.

He shook himself from his strange imaginings, why if anyone were to know his thoughts they would have thought him mad for seeing something so foreign in such great detail.

Although he felt that the images were hardly of his own wrongdoing; There were so many, too many, beautiful sights for one pair of eyes to behold. It was nearly overwhelming.

‘How?’ he asked himself. ‘How could anyone live in such splendor without falling ill?’ He caressed the pearl headpiece on his neck as he gazed around the ballroom. There was a childish excitement in him, urging his feet forward with the desire to explore and discover. This was not shocking, there was always a young light of exuberance within his very spirit, that caused the local parish to think upon the idea that he ought to be beaten more. He personally disagreed, considering it a gift to be so joyous in one's life, especially when you had experienced what he had as a child. It remained a gift he carried quite proudly.

Biting his lower lip, he considered that perhaps he had indulged himself enough, that perhaps, he ought to head out into the cold once more and find work before the sun roose too high.

However, in merely glancing at the darkness that was behind one of the grand stairways the rationale was quickly smothered. There was simply too much curiosity weighing on his mind that he could not simply ignore it, less it haunt him for countless nights to come; no, he had to see just what else the palace held, what beauty or what travesty lay in the darkened halls of the forgotten palace.

Taking quick steps, he made haste toward the staircase with the thrones, he knew not if this was wise, and in honestly his more practical mind told him it was foolish, still all of the nervous energy he felt was whisked away as he ascended the stairs.

He had never thought in any of his wildest imaginings something so mundane as walking up a staircase could feel so regal. Now, here he was, and he felt like he could in fact be nobility making the most grand of entrances to great his relations.

Lifting his left palm, he giggled ever so slightly; it became so rare to feel as if one was important in this calamitous world, that Naruto simply began to indulge for his own peace of mind. Raising his head ever so slightly, he adjusted his posture, attempting through the rumours he had heard to mimic the poise of a royal as best he could. Even going so far as smoothing out the wrinkles and seams bending his plain fern-dyed commoner skirt.

However, his sapphire eyes were drawn away, and his focus found a new subject to gaze upon. He could not withhold a gasp of awe at the scale and finery that the family portrait of the royal family showcased. Now, it stood upon the wall, scarcely glimpsed at by anyone, its beauty wasted to the dust and dirt covering the walls and floors of the abandoned palace.

‘What a sad reality.’ he reasoned to no one. The portrait was dim in the lighting of the room, and held the appearance of something worn, it could be regarded as something dim and forgotten. There were three larger persons in the painting, all of them standing tall and prideful behind the children in front, though regardless of this fact the three royals looked content, with small smiles on their faces.

There were two men, and one woman in the painting, the woman with what appeared to be grey eyes, pale skin, and long bright red hair. Her hair was one of the few things he knew he had interpreted correctly, for whoever had made the masterpiece had used some type of special paint that illuminated her bright finely done hair. The two men also had their hair painted far brighter then the rest of their bodies, the taller of the two with his; a brightened white, the shorter; a more demure blond. Each of them wore finery of white and gold accessories. Although the woman’s waist was clearly held in a tightened corset, a blue ribbon wrapped around her hips upon her embroidered gown.

The children of the painting were all slightly more open than the adults, with softened faces, and kind -happy- smiles that truly held peace in their eyes.

There were two girls: One with brightened red hair and a flattering dull green dress with matching seaming and a strange trim of what looked to be bronze painted leafs, her eyes were of a deep and encompassing bright red, done in the same paint as her hair. Why, Naruto fathomed privately; she nearly looked to be a devil’s child with such eyes. The other girl had a light pink hair, that reminded Naruto of a beautiful flower he had once received as a gift from one of the children. She had the eyes of a spring enchantress, a beautiful light green that may only be seen when the new leaves of spring are graced with sunlight. Her dress was a white of purity, and much lace was threaded everywhere so it could be a quite delicate dress.

Alongside the woman there were two boys, although one, Naruto could plainly see was a _Beau_ and as such was dressed in a fine blue gown.

The one who appeared to be the eldest of all of them was a young man with orange hair, the colour of the sunset itself, a large smile, and energetic black eyes, dressed in a proud white suit.

Naruto then turned his attention to what appeared to be the youngest child, and the _Beau_ of the grouping. He was a tiny thing compared to the likeness of his siblings, and he seemed to be the mere age of only five or four. He had the same specially brightened hair as the man painted above, a subtle blonde that illuminated as his father’s.

However, the sharp sound of a door slamming caught his attention before he could examine the child closer. Alongside the sound came the quick steppings of thick leather soles on fine stone floors. A man then, he concluded, and he imagined someone who would be displeased to find someone in the forbidden grounds of the Palace.

Cautious, he crouched down as too not be seen by the man entering from one of the back doors. Silent, he hid as much as he could behind the brown railing and peeked up over the top, curious as to what sort of man had entered. Unfortunately, due to his limited vantage point looking over the polished railing he could not see anything, it was simply too far down. So, he moved down some more, and looked through the posts, this time his view was far clearer.

He could see only barely the figure of a tall man, with black or dark brown hair hidden underneath a dark bowler hat, and cheeks with pale skin. The man was wearing boots, his heels making sharp noises on the stone. He wore either a black or navy sack suit with a lighter toned cravat and gloves. Upon taking a glance just behind the man, he could see a large coat that had been dropped on the floor just as he had done, it looked to be falling apart just as his own as well. Even from his perch at the banister he could see a large hole in the fabric, and many patchworks of many different articles of clothing on the fabric. He certainly couldn’t be a guard with such a fabric.

The recollection then stuck him, and he cursed himself for not having the foresight earlier a blinded misstep on his part, his coat still lay upon the floor near the table and if the man had been here before he would surely be aware that it had not been there a day ago. How foolish. However, there was a temptation to regard the scene, a curiosity to figure out what exactly the man was like, for it was strange that someone had entered in such a casual manner. Perhaps he was seeking shelter from the cold here?

A deep baritone sounded: “A coat?” He heard, his breath leaving him suddenly as anxious energy dropped a stone into his stomach. Swallowing, he chanced a glance over the banister, and looked down at the man who was examining his coat. “Is someone here?” The man glanced around fastly, and before he could conceal himself the man had turned in his direction and frozen, the weak legged blond could not see just what expression had crossed the other’s face, but he could only believe that it was not a pleasant one. Straightening himself, he stood tall, and moved to descend the staircase.

He was no coward after all.

He moved to speak, unsure of just what to say in the face of such a complexion. So, in true fashion to how he normally functioned, he allowed his mouth to speak freely and without pause to quander upon whether or not his words and greeting were socially acceptable.

“My apologies Sir, my curiosity lead me here rather unvexed, and I just so happened to follow. Please, excuse me.” He spoke lightly, quickly, while walking down. And even then, in the face of such nervous thoughts, his tone carried with it something of an awful inpertenentence.

“ _Un Bel_ , I do not belong here I use a cell as an apartment.” The man afore him appeared stern, something came across his face near stoicism. “You, however, are quite handsome. May I ask; why don't you have an escort (4) beside you?”

Feeling his face being painted red, he glanced down once he reached the end of the staircase, the compliment not lost to his ears. Though against his wishes, a smile tilted his lips ever so slightly.

“An escort would be unwise in light of my situation Sir, I am an orphan seeking-” Pausing, he chanced a glance to the eyes of the man, unsure of how to proceed, he certainly could not reveal that he was seeking work with the laws banishing him from doing so. His lips drew taught on his face where a smile had been but mere moments ago.

“-work I imagine? That is quite respectable.” Feeling confidence swell from within his belly, the bright honey coloured blonde moved towards the man, and stopped at a respectable distance as to continue a more pleasant conversation.

“Yes! That is my intention! However, I doubt that someone such as myself should find work outside of being a punk. (5)” He kept a tone light of heart, for there was every possibility that such a thing would come to pass. The man before him seemed to read the fear implanted in his words, for he gave a grim frown, and gained a thoughtful tilt to his eyes. Now becoming careful of their acquaintanceship, Naruto moved onto another topic altogether.

“Well, an’ to want at all, you have certainly found a place of grandeur Sir. I am curious, why choose the palace when guards could always come around? Are you someone who enjoys a little danger?” Speaking teasingly, he jousted.

To Naruto’s own surprise his acquaintance smirked slightly upon the inquiry. “Indeed. Who would not.” He passed over the coat he still held. “However, that was not my intention when seeking residence here.”

“What of the local parish? Surely they would offer shelter from this cruel winter, they provide for the orphans do they not?” Serious, his tone was laced with something disgusted, reproached. The ragamuffin man before him only offered but the briefest of bittersweet smiles in turn. Though he shifted in place, as if his suit no longer fit his frame, a pinkened flush appearing on his cheeks. Naruto watched, ingracious at the rather bewildering display. He did not expect the man to extend an arm for him to take without reproach. In common society people regarded him with disgust as a _beau_ and would never incline him the simple privilege of respectable manners. However, as strange as the action was, Naruto held no hesitation, no shutter of his hands came into fruition, as he took the offered arm into his own and interlinked their elbows respectably.

“How rude of me.” The man said avoiding the conversation altogether, he inclined his head so that their hairs nearly brushed together. “My name is Madara, of what household I do not know, I am sure it was one as regal as those of the Winter Palace.” They both gave a chortle under breath. “And you, _Un Bel?_ What be your christian name?”

“Naruto, be my fair name, truly regal do you not agree?” They laughed slightly at their own strange humour, continuing down the vast hall behind one of the staircases. Though it had been a long time since either of the two had felt such a sense of lightened heart. It was only of pure circumstance had they met, yet it was clear they were in joy of the other’s company regardless.

Throughout the rest the morn, they left behind their vexations, and spoke in light tones of their early lives simply indulging in the company of another for the time they could. After long hours of idle talk, they ate their fill of a small supper, then they took off to a small corner in order to rest for the night.

Because if nothing else they had found a kindred spirit of sorts. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was to be said that although frivolous, Naruto as a Beau was a strange man indeed, he kept to himself, and that was peculiar conduct for someone such as he. Consider the way things are as people as himself are expected to act, with such social grandeur, the British for example had taken to copy the French. 

Naruto himself couldn’t see the appeal of such a thing, why not continue with your own traditions instead of finding purchase in anothers? He had even heard through the gasp of Annibell -a woman of the orphanage who had been taken away when she had reached age by a peculiar gentlemen.- that the English were actually rather bloated due to a new diet, ‘ridiculous,’ he had said ‘surely they remain respectful onto themselves!’ He knew not now if such a fact remained true or not, it was a winter past that he had heard such a thing after all. The English he had always thought rather unpleasant, although if they were rich enough to waste away on their food, then perhaps they shall. 

As for himself, when he was granted with the privilege of a good meal on his plate he would be joyous. Luckily he might have found something where he could provide himself such luxury. There was a seamstresses just down the road from the palace where they were looking for aid, so Madara had told him. As a gentleman himself the man could never have worked in such a station, however for a Beau as himself it was perfect. 

He was only in quandary of whether or not they would need his aid, for surely some other lady or Beau had offered their services. The hours mattered not to him, as long as he got wages to eat his fill and keep some warmth upon himself, a roof over his head was not of great concern as he was sharing lodgings with the gentleman Madara at the palace ‘ha! How ostentatious sounding!’ he reflected to himself. 

Currently he was being walked to the establishment he had mentioned with Madara by his side, who had so kindly offered his services as an escort. At least for a temporary time, a kind gesture he was ever grateful for. He had no patience for those who thought themselves above the law and saw fit to attack or indeed molest him while he simply attempted to get to work -if he could land the position.- He of course thought Madara to be of good company, so the issue of tense air never seemed to occur between them, they slotted together as two pieces of a whole, quite how one imagined the romance between the late Queen Victoria and her husband Alfred had matched. At least that was the only comparison he found to suit their interesting and growing relationship. For they both knew each other to be compatible, however, neither of them were much the type to jump into a courtship or even a small passing affair unguarded. 

Upon reaching the small corner shop, Madara held the door for him as he entered, and they were greeted by a rather harsh looking greyed woman with a corset that had clearly come loose from her frame, and her face morphed in such a manner by her many bagging wrinkles, that Naruto despite himself found himself guessing her age, and losing place of proper conduct. Luckily he was good enough to hold his tongue not daring to speak such things in front of her. 

Although he did find himself casting a rather amused, if slightly baffled expression at his escort behind him, masking the ever so miniscule grin held upon his face from his thought. He was granted with an barely noticeable raised eyebrow in return, a upturn to a pale cheek and a twitch of the left ring finger. 

The sudden loud clatter from behind the woman drew his attention rather quickly. Several things appearing to fall upon someone, perhaps having tripped upon a stray fabric, and now paid the price as they lay on the ground covered in stitchings and unfinished silk. A woman he noticed, as evident by her large breast. The strange lady in front of them turned herself a clear snarl etching itself upon her face before Naruto could see not her features due to the angle. 

“Hinata! I did not hire you for your legs to take no heed to my word, you will rise this instant! Honest girl! One would think you had never taken a step in your life with the way in which you hold yourself.” The poor girl, Hinata, scrambled, her hands grasping upon what appeared to be random material in a spew of it, and raised to her feet as quickly as she could muster, a rather perplexed look upon her face, near lilac eyes opened wide, and if Naruto was not mistaken, her pale skin was more translucent than could be considered normal, blue veins clearly visible around the eyes and upon her cheeks. 

Of course the young Beau knew not if this was the normal appearance of the girl or if it was due to her strangely shocked appearance. Aside from the widened flower eyes her shoulders were raised high, and her tightly held torso hardly moved with breath, far less than a corset could hide, she was clearly holding it, though the confused orphan knew not why. That, and Hinata was looking directly at him her gaze almost startling with its intensity, even if it seemed not threatening, Naruto felt it of more significance then he gave it credit for. 

Seemingly suddenly, the girl came to her senses, and her once rounded eyes, turned onto the french woman with her hands on her hips, with a remarkably fast onslaught of red tinge appeared to rise on her cheeks. Interestingly, Naruto noted he could still see the blue veins under the red hue of her bashful blush. 

“I-I a-apologize Madam! I was not- I did not look where I was going…” For someone with such an intense gaze Hinata had a very soft spoken voice, and a gentle tone, and the stutter she held proved her to be a shy girl, as it would appear. Though Naruto could only hope she was kind. The Madam, turned onto him next, a sharp needle focus that was hardly seen in woman her age held the poor now rather frightened orphan in place. In place of fear, he gave a small smile, and closed his eyes from the sudden onslaught of intimidating force he was experiencing, and took a moment unto himself to regain his composure. 

Opening his eyes once more, he stared into the grey eyes of the old woman, Madara’s presence behind him a rather austere comfort, keeping him from turning tail and leaving immediately, though he knew himself not to be a coward, some elders were insane he found, and this woman did remind him ever so slightly of the housemother, he had grown up with, and considered to be not of stable mind. 

“Madam, I heard from this lovely gentleman-” he gestured to Madara with his right hand, “That you are in need of some assistance in your splendid shop. I’m rather skilled with the common thread and needle, I would like to offer my services, if you will have me of course.” His tone though wavering under the scrutiny of the intimidating woman still managed to hold onto it a lightened tone which gave away much onto his life disposition at the current moment. The woman, entirely, and perhaps too aware of this fact gave him a searching look before grabbing onto his hands and tugging them forward eyeing them with a practised eye, looking for something that seemingly only someone in her profession could find.

“Picked fingers, scars… Dainty….” Came the muttered whispers of the elder that Naruto was fast believing senile, as she turned his hands as she saw fit before meeting his eyes with a sharpened look, making him very much aware of the fact that in such a circumstance he held little to no power over the situation. He gave himself the brief comfort of allowing his nerves to get the better of him for a mere moment before giving a hesitant smile, dim, compared to those he wore when he was not anxious. “You do have experience it would appear. Very well, you may work here, your wages depend on how well you work, and the quality of which you produce! I expect you here at seven in the morn and you will leave before tea time.” 

Being faced with more than he had expected when he had gone out that morning, the rather flummoxed blond Beau only nodded along with the french woman’s words, a large grin breaking his face, as he was ushered out the shop with little complaint. 

Madara stood beside him in the cold Russian winds of winter, a less complex look on his features, his emotional output having been rather blank compared to those he normally met Naruto had noticed.

Although if one were to gaze long enough into the man’s eyes, they would notice the ever present hint of emotion, less than that even, more of a clue as to what he felt then the actual feeling itself. That is why when the man turned to lock eyes with him, was Naruto aware that something simmered under his gave then the simple reflection of the snow, something which spoke far more than simple regard or respect for someone could. Under polite pretext of course, in a display of unusual cowardice the orphan averted his gaze and moved his thoughts away from the understanding he had been presented with. 

Instead making a conversation that bore no heavy burden upon him or the other to speak of. Especially aware of his own powers of procrastination, he could admit to himself that he was acting the part of a delicate flower wilting under the intense heat of the sun in the desert. Or perhaps he was more inclined to that of a drowning steam ship at sea completely out of his depth and sinking fast, with dangers he could not completely comprehend awaiting him. 

Madara, it seemed was not bothered by his lack of professionalization, and seemed instead to take note of his polite manner, a fact of which Naruto was very grateful. The work days not beginning until tomorrow, Madara insisted that they go dine at a local cafe which pilfered to the needs of those less fortunate at the week’s end. Being a half starving man the younger could only agree full heartedly to such a suggestion. 

Once they held settled into the cafe, it became rather obvious to Naruto that Madara though not lacking in physical power, was quite prone to anything sweet. He ordered for himself two pieces of cake and a sweetened type of coffee that was very obviously Italian in nature as he had never heard the name before, and he was entirely sure he could not pronounce it with the grace Madara did. 

It was very kind of the gentleman therefore to read him the way he did, and in assumption ordered the same beverage for Naruto as he had himself, which inflamed something in the orphan’s cheeks much to his own humiliation. Still while not accustomed with the strange notion of eating somewhere other than the home he had been rather simplistic and ordered pancakes with a rich type of susce called ‘maple syrup’ apparently a new export from Canada, of which their country had only just gotten ahold of. 

“Interesting thing this ‘maple syrup is it not? Honestly, how did they create such a thing?” He asked in way of conversation, and at this point was not entirely surprised to receive an answer from his companion, he seemed to have access to unrivalled amounts of information. 

“I believe the colonists of Canada collect it from a tree there, its sap if you can believe such a notion. Fascinating really, apparently the indigenous people of the land have been making it for years, before Cartier found the land.” Madara commented, the brief twitch of his brow and the slight bending of his frame showing his interest and fascination with the subject. Which in turn intrigued the orphan to find out more himself. 

“Sap! How could they manage such a thing with something as simplistic as tree sap?” Madara shook his head, unaware of the making aspect of such a thing. It was just as strange a thought to him as it was to Naruto it appeared, which was of comfort to the poor man, he had begun to think himself stupid in the presence of someone so knowledgeable. 

In its own way, such intellect was intriguing, even enticing, but there was a small line that drew the orphan away from pretentious wisdom and keen observation, a line of which Madara tread upon with a candid nature of an evening stroll. Perhaps, Naruto reflected, perhaps that was what made his heart beat ever faster when the man did speak, eager to hear the calm drawl of his voice as he spoke of things that on occasion were beyond Naruto’s comprehension, in a manner of which told that the gentleman believed it to be common knowledge. It was indeed a constant test of his own boundries of conduct whenever he was in the other’s company, and he found it thrilling. 

Spending time in the company of such an intellectual was a stimulating experience, and one could not help but feel special to have caught the attention of someone so wise. In fact were he to analyze himself, he knew he would find shaking fingers and perspiring palms. There was something about his companion that sparked some sort of fascination, it was this refinery to his actions, not as if he had grown up in an orphanage but instead in a more prestigious household. The way there was an insightful glimmer to his eyes, and a stiff hold within his posture, he spoke with confidence no ounce of hesitation. Naruto found it quite curious. 

  
  


Once they arrived back at the palace, ducking into the ballroom with a practiced grace they both gazed in awe at the sight of the sun shining upon the floor and chandelier, the gold sparkled in the light, looking as if it were alive in warm golden. The sight was one so fantastical that the Beau could not help but spin within the room a joyful giggle escaping him as he did so. It was as if he was within the walls at the time of their magnificence. 

“Beautiful.” 

“Isn’t it?!” He agreed, turning to his friend a large smile in place, almost startled to find Madara so close by, his voice having been a mere whisper to his ears. The observant eyes met in his eyes in the clash of the darkest sea and the most peaceful pacific waters, a distilled moment. 

“I wasn’t speaking of the room. My eyes were drawn only to the one brightening its glow.” He found his waist taken, the kind and honest tone to the words having startled him for a moment, and he gazed unsure upon the shimmering black and grey hair of his friend.

_ Dancing bears, painting wings.  _

Almost unconsciously, they began a dance, one that he was familiar with though he knew not where from. A cereal experience dancing within a golden ballroom as if they were nobility, the colours springing in a more vibrant light in his vision. He was transfixed.

_ And a song someone sings,  _

They danced to an incomprehensible tone, one not heard by others, yet it encompassed the entire room, the winter winds blowing through the boarded entry ways, did not falter them. For it was something far more precious.

_ Once upon a December…. _

A feeling of elation, like he had never before felt sprung up into his very bones, and somehow their dance, simple and without music was all the more important. 

_ Figures dancing gracefully.  _

_ Across my memory, _

_ Far away, long ago,  _

_ Glowing dim as an ember,  _

_ Things my heart used to know,  _

_ Things it yearns to remember, _

_ And a song someone sings, _

_ Once upon a december…. _

They bowed. Nothing more then what could be described as something as a yearning grew from within, and Naruto could do nothing to stop the growing apprehension within his abdomen, regardless, it mattered not. 


End file.
